


All in the Timing

by C_aura (Coragyps)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha!Dean, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Anal Fingering, Caretaking, Dean Winchester Takes Care of Sam Winchester, Hand Feeding, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Nudity, Submissive Sam, loving domination, omega!Sam, some have called this dubcon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-02
Updated: 2017-12-02
Packaged: 2019-02-09 14:38:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12890013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Coragyps/pseuds/C_aura
Summary: Sam hasn’t had a heat in ten years. Dean may not be his mate, but he’s past waiting patiently and decides it’s time to take a more hands-on approach.





	All in the Timing

Dean closed the calendar ap on his phone with a sigh.

Sam knew why; the ap tracked an omega’s annual heat, and according to its algorithm, Sam had just missed his window. Again. “Dean, it’s fine. I told you I don’t even like you using that creepy thing. Let me have my privacy, okay?”

“Sammy. C’mon. This isn’t healthy, little brother.”

“You know how it is,” said Sam, trying not to hunch over in his chair. In some weird way, he almost felt like he was letting his brother down. He didn't think it was a coincidence that Dean had chosen this week to pull over at a much nicer hotel than usual - and check them in for the whole week. "These things happen."

Dean snorted. "Yeah, well, I'm not letting it happen, not this time. I’m not going to let my baby brother go through the rest of his life like some kind of – _eunuch_ , just because he’s a proud graduate of the Winchester Academy of Repressing Shit.”

"You know that's a myth," said Sam, rolling his eyes. "It's all just hormones."

"I know that Dr. Google says traumatic experiences can throw an omega off-cycle.”

Sam pulls a face. Maybe there was a chance that that part of him had just - died, with Jess. Burned up into dust. Either way, it wasn't ever coming back.

"Look, I'm just saying, I'm the closest thing you've got to an Alpha. Let's just give it a try, okay?"

Sam snarled. These days Dean usually knew better than to pull that Alpha-big-brother crap with him; weren’t half their fights about the fact that Dean thought he knew better than Sam about what was good for him? That Dean’s stupid, overprotective macho bullshit ended up getting them both into trouble? They were supposed to be equals. Partners. Brothers.

“Hey, woah-woah-woah,” said Dean, raising his hands, evidently not quite stupid enough to keep pushing it after that. “Hey, c’mon, Sammy. I’ll still respect you in the morning. Okay? You’ll still be your own man. I promise. But you gotta let me try, man. It’s my job.”

“It’s _not_ your job. You may be the only Alpha in my life, but you’re not _my_ alpha.” Or more accurately, maybe Sam was an omega, but he wasn’t _Dean’s_ omega.

Even though it wasn’t uncommon for A/O sibling pairs to mate - and even though most people assumed Dean and Sam already had - since puberty Sam had always resisted any of Dean’s efforts to take charge of him.

He thought the words would hurt Dean, make him back off, but to his surprise Dean’s expression was accepting. He stepped in closer, putting a hand on Sam’s shoulder. “I know that, Sammy. I promise, I do. I know we’re not – you don’t – I know you can do a lot better than me. But I can still do this for you, little brother. I can give you this, and then you can find a proper mate, your real mate, who’ll give you what you need. But how are you going to find them if you never go into heat again, huh?”

Sam groaned. He had never liked the way Dean talked about himself. “Dean, it’s not like that… ” To his own frustration his voice cracked, which had been happening more and more to him lately. It was supposed to be a sign of hormone imbalance.

“Hey, shush shush, it’s okay. It’s okay. Don’t have to say anything, little brother. It’s all alright. I’m not mad, I get it. But can you let me try? Please?”

“Dean …” Sam really didn’t want to do this. But he could barely resist his brother at the best of times, and this was hardly the best of times. His body was worn down from preparing for a heat that had never come, and his nerves were frayed. And somewhere in that last speech he’d gotten a nasty sense of how their dynamic was playing out in Dean’s mind.

He knew his brother better than anyone, and should have anticipated that Dean would assume – what, that Sam thought was too good for Dean? That Dean wasn’t a worthy Alpha, that he wouldn’t be proud to have Dean in his life? That wasn’t it at all. Sam had just always needed to prove to himself and the world that he could handle himself, omega or not.

"Look,” said Dean, walking over to his duffel and rummaging through a side pocket, pulling out some crumpled, folded pages. “I found these exercises on the internet. I thought maybe we could try them.”

Sam was momentarily confused - exercises? Like they were going to work out? - but Dean was smoothing out the printed page on the table: _Trust Exercises For Omegas: Promote a Healthy Bond and Relax your Mate._

Sam barely skimmed the first few items on the list (#1: Aromatherapy. #2: Massage) before he pushed the page away, embarrassed.

“Dean ...”

But Dean was already holding up a scented candle, waving it enticingly. Sam squinted at the label; ‘ _Summer Meadows_.’ “Uh, I really don't think …”

“Shh, come on, Sammy, let’s just give this a try. If you don’t like it, we can stop any time. Okay? Just try to relax, little brother.” Dean lit the candle and set it on the table, then rubbed his hands together.

Sam could smell something already; he thought it was mostly lavender.

“There we go. Just - be a good boy, and let me take care of you, huh?”

Sam had to close his eyes, pretending that he didn’t feel a stab of _want_ at that file-rough voice coaxing him so gently. It was the same voice that had sweet-talked him all his life – from eating his vegetables (and wasn’t that ironic) to going back to bed when he’d awakened from another nightmare.

And right now he was just – so tired. He hadn’t been able to sleep well lately, and his appetite had been off. He’d actually started to think this might be the year. But – just like every other year since Jess died – it all came to nothing.

So now if Dean wanted to feed him hot tea and rub his back, or something, he guessed he could live with it.

“Fine,” he said, not meeting his brother’s eyes. “If you think you can help.”

Dean clapped him on the shoulder. “That’s great, Sammy,” he said, sounding honestly relieved, which just made Sam feel worse. “Thank you." He stepped closer – Sam closed his eyes – and then he felt gentle fingers pushing his hair back from his forehead. “There’s my boy,” Dean whispered, stroking his cheek.

“C’mon, Dean, don’t – ”

“Sorry, sorry. I know. You don’t like that stuff. Alright, Sammy. Strip.”

“Wait - what?”

“Now, Sammy. Off with those clothes, let’s get a look at you.”

“Umm, I thought you were going to like, give me a backrub, why would I need to be naked?”

Dean was already unbuttoning the front of Sam’s jacket, not giving him the chance to cooperate. Sam looked down, distracted, to find that he was already down a layer. “Dean …”

“Sammy, it’s been more than ten years, do you really think a backrub will send you into heat? I know I’m good with my hands, but nobody’s that good.” Dean was quick with the fly of Sam’s jeans, laughing at Sam’s squawks of indignation.

“Here we go, lift your arms,” said Dean, tugging his shirt up briskly. Sam's smart retort was muffled by fabric. It was dark underneath, like a blanket fort. Dean - quite deliberately, Sam was sure - left it trapped over his head.

“ _Mmph_ ,” Sam protested, through a mouthful of flannel.

Dean patted his hip reassuringly and kept stripping him, taking the opportunity to feel up his ribs. Sam twisted away, still wrestling ineffectually with the shirt.

“Need to put some more meat on your bones, little brother,” said Dean, unrepentant. His fingers skated over Sam’s nipples, tweaking playfully as Sam tried futilely to slap him away. Then his hands turned gentle, smoothing over Sam's sides, down to his hips. "When's the last time you had a good meal, huh?"

Sam finally got himself free. “Jerk,” he muttered, tossing the material to the floor.

“Now, Sammy, let’s get you turned away – ” Dean’s hands on his shoulders, rotating him slowly, guiding him into the corner. "That's it. Just like that. No no, keep your eyes forward.”

Sam knew what Dean was doing. He thought by making Sam feel exposed and vulnerable, he could bring out those latent omega hormones. Probably some more nonsense from the internet - like if he could ground Sam in his feeble body instead of his head, he could coax out Sam's heat. But it wouldn’t work. Sam had a lot of experience overcoming his own instincts (Sam's instincts so far have told him to drink demon blood, let Ruby fuck him, and jump into Hell _more than once_ ; he's better off without them).

Dean dropped a hand on his back and traced it down his spine. "Good, good boy," he whispered. “Such a good little brother."

"Stop it," said Sam. "Don't - don't talk to me like that."

"Shh, Sammy," said Dean, guiding his head down to look at the floor and not letting him lift it.

Sam growled.

“Aw, c’mon. You look good like this," said Dean, rubbing his back. "You're all flushed pink back here. You're not embarrassed, are you? To let your big brother see you naked? I used to give you your bath every night, baby boy, you've got nothing I haven't seen."

He squeezed Sam's ass through his boxers, not lasciviously, but with affection. Sam squeaked anyway, high pitched. Dean's hands were gentle but his fingers left points of heat even after he let go.

Sam _was_ embarrassed, to be naked when Dean was fully dressed, and to be put in the corner like a naughty little boy (which he never even had been!).

“You've got a cute little 'mega butt, Sammy,” Dean confided, rubbing the backside in question. “Nice and round. Kinda bouncy. I never really noticed it before.” He gave it another pat like he couldn't quite stop touching it, and without warning began gently guiding Sam's boxer's down.

“Dean - Ah! Dean, what are you - what are you doing?”

“Hey hey. I’m not going to hurt you. I’m just trying to help, that’s all. Just relax. Relax for me, Sammy.” He reached forward and clasped back of Sam’s neck, finding the right spot immediately, causing Sam’s muscles to automatically loosen.

Sam grunted.

"There we go, that’s better, isn’t it," said Dean.

It was hard to talk, when Dean still had him by the back of the neck. It was hard even to think straight.

"There we go, that's my Sammy."

Dean let him go, but the effect of the Hold would likely linger for a while. Sam wondered how he’d known exactly where to press, how to position his fingers. As far as he knew Dean didn’t like to mess around with omegas, preferring beta women – and some men, when he had the chance. Sam tried to pretend the thought of Dean with another omega didn’t bother him.

"Let’s get those eyes closed, huh?"

Sam hummed as his vision was cut off by Dean’s hand, sliding down over his forehead. It was quiet and still in the dark. Then something soft and light was swaddled over his eyes, blinding him, and tied off tightly behind his head.

Dean patted his shoulder again. "Nobody’s trying to embarrass you, Sam. Think of it like a medical treatment - if you busted your tailbone again, you’d let me ice it, wouldn’t you? If you needed stitches in some awkward spot you’d suck it up and let me do it.”

 _Suck it up_ , a poor choice of phrase, thought Sam dazedly.

“Well, the medical need here is a little different, that’s all."

Dean drew his boxers down to his knees, keeping Sam turned away. "Now, you going to let me look at you? Yeah you are. Blushing back here on these cheeks too, aren't you."

Sam whined.

"Alright, sweetheart, take some nice deep breaths. I’m right here.”

Dean wrapped an arm around him and kissed the top of his head. Sam could feel him Scenting, gentle huffs that fluttered a warm breeze over the back of his neck. He couldn’t help leaning in.

“That’s my boy,” Dean whispered, letting him take his time before slowly pulling away. “I think you’re okay to stand here just like this for a minute, huh? Gonna feel nice and calm. I’m just going to take care of a few things. Stay here for me."

Sam listened, his ears pricked, while Dean clattered around behind him in the kitchen, probably making more noise than necessary because he knew Sam needed to hear him.

Under the blindfold it was dark and quiet. The scent of lavender was much more noticeable this way. Sam forced himself not to fidget, to take deep breaths, to keep still.

He remembered the gentle fall of Jess’ blonde curls, so soft around his face as she rode him. He’d been so lucky to find a beta who didn’t mind his designation. It had felt like the ultimate escape from his biology.

But it couldn't last. Nothing but Dean could ever last.

"Alright, sweetheart, all done. This way." Dean helped him step out of the boxers that were still trapped around his knees and slipped an arm around his waist, their sides pressed close together – the rough denim of his jeans against Sam’s bare skin – to lead him the few steps into the kitchen. Sam didn’t even bother to put his hands out to catch himself, knowing Dean would never let him walk into anything.

"Down now," said Dean, and hands on Sam’s shoulders guided him to his knees before it would have occurred to him to resist.

"I’m going to take this off," Dean warned, untying the blindfold. Sam almost protested – it was so safe, with his eyes covered, it was so quiet. But Dean gently tugged it away as Sam blinked, adjusting to the low light.

He was kneeling on a soft rug next to the table.

Dean had a bowl of what looked like fine-chopped kale salad, bright with red cranberries and croutons and grated parmesan cheese. Next to it was a baguette of crusty bread, cut into slices and slathered with butter. Sam's eyes watered, knowing that some time in the last week Dean must have gone out and purchased these ingredients just for him. He'd probably gotten the recipe off of one of those cooking blogs he pretended he didn't look at.

"It's pretty good," said Dean diffidently, watching Sam's expression carefully. "I think. You wanna try some?"

"Okay," Sam whispered. He was still embarrassed to be naked - Dean could glance right down at his stupid omega dick, if he wanted to - but he _was_ kind of hungry ...

Dean selected one of the slices of bread and broke it in half, offering it up to Sam.

Sam tried to reach for it, but Dean caught his hands and held them gently down. "No no, baby. Need to show you that I can take good care of my omega, huh. You going to let me?"

Sam tried half heartedly to pull free, but Dean didn't let him.

"Come on Sammy, you know this will help," said Dean patiently, holding the bite in front of Sam's mouth. 

"It isn't going to work, Dean," said Sam.

"So it won't hurt for you to try it. Now open up like a good boy. You're going to like it. It's garlic butter."

Sam rolled his eyes and gave in, delicately parting his teeth and accepting the bite that Dean slipped between his lips. "That's it, good boy," said Dean. "Mmm. Good, huh?"

"It's fine," said Sam, resolving to humor him to get this over with. No way he was being affected by the feeling of being nurtured and cared for.

Dean fed him the second bite and then followed it with his own finger, slipped into Sam's mouth, resting gently on his tongue. Sam whined and tried to jerk away but Dean kept him in place, sliding his fingers around the inside of Sam's mouth, getting him used to the sensation. Sam moaned and fussed but he knew he was suckling instinctively. Eventually he just resigned himself and let it happen.

"That's a good boy, Sammy," said Dean, his voice full of honest affection that settled in Sam's bones.

Sam had heard Dean call past girlfriends 'baby,' in the same tone of endearment he used 'Sammy' now. He was past the stage where he was going to protest the nickname, and he could even admit to himself now that he secretly loved it.

Dean fed him the salad from his fingers, which seemed doomed to disaster even though he was very careful. Sam initially thought this was an idea that hadn’t been thought through very well, but based on the chuckles as kale spilled down his naked chest, he eventually concluded that Dean was enjoying the mess of it. Still, it _was_ very good, with a tangy vinaigrette that stained Dean’s fingertips.

“You have to eat some too,” said Sam shrewdly, after accepting several bites. He always worried about his brother’s cholesterol.

Dean rolled his eyes but didn’t argue, using the fork to feed himself. Cheater.

“S’not so bad,” he said, shrugging, “but I’d rather have a burger on top of it.” He waited for Sam to open up for the next forkful.

Growing up, Sam could remember so many years of frozen food and TV dinners. He’d always hated it, but now that he was older he realized how much it must have hurt _Dean_ , to serve food that wasn’t well made, that tasted like plastic. He’d always played it off like he enjoyed that junk ... but he loved food and most of all he loved to take care of the people in his life.

They made it through the rest of the plate, with Dean only teasing him once about “tossed salads.” And by the end Sam was expecting the fingers that eased into his mouth after every bite. He did love the taste of Dean, smoky and warm.

“That’s it,” said Dean, wiping Sam’s slick lips with his thumb when the last bite had been consumed. "All done.”

He guided Sam’s head into his lap and stroked his hair, letting him suckle on the fingers in his mouth. Sam closed his eyes and tried to enjoy the rare moment of peace. Dean gave him time to unwind, then patted his shoulder.

“Now I’d like to take another look at that little backside of yours, baby boy. Will you let me?”

Sam blinked at him in confusion. He was feeling warm and full and well cared for, and it made it hard to think straight. Somehow he suspected that was exactly what Dean had been going for.

“Come on, let’s get you up on your feet,” said Dean. “Easy, Sam, that’s it. Up over the table.”

“Dean, no,” said Sam, squirming as Dean planted a hand in the middle of his back to guide him down. He didn’t want anyone to look at him – _there_.

“Take it easy now, Sammy. I’m just going to take a look. Sh-sh-shh, no no, don’t tense up.”

Careful hands parted his buttocks as Sam, panicked, tried to rear up.

“Okay, hold up.” Dean stripped off his own undershirt - soft grey cotton - and rubbed it deliberately under his arm pits, then without any embarrassment, down the front of his sweat pants, between his legs, over his cock and balls.

“No, don't –”

“Shh, Sammy. C'mere, now, don't fuss.” He caught Sam easily, holding him steady with one hand behind his neck as Sam tried to twist away, holding the fabric over his face, arranging it over his nose and mouth. Sam garbled in resistance but the scent of pheromones was already dragging him deeper. “That's it. Nice deep breaths,” said Dean, his grip implacable.

“Mmn,” Sam moaned. He could have picked his brother's Alpha scent out of a crowd of hundreds - spicy, like cinnamon, with an edge of musk, aggressive and masculine. Underneath that, something solid and trustworthy, like sun-warmed soil.

Sam felt his panic receding, gulping in the grounding smell, letting himself revel in the animal pleasure of his brother's closeness.

“Alright now, you just stay right like this. Hold this position for me.”

God, his legs were spread apart so wide, and Dean was holding his buttocks open, he was _looking,_ looking at him _right_ _there._ The place nobody had seen since Jess. With all the other women he had made them do it in the dark, had ridden them without letting them – without letting them _see._

And now Dean was just – was just casually appraising him, as if it was nothing to be ashamed of, just another part of little Sammy that big brother needed to take care of. Like a skinned knee or a bumped head or a split lip. Any part of Sam that needed attention was Dean’s purview.

“Tell me how this feels, Sammy.”

“… Okay,” said Sam shakily.

“Yeah?”

“Y-yes. Okay.”

Dean rubbed his free hand up and down Sam’s side. “That’s good, sweetheart. Touch your nipples for me. Pinch them, that’s it, that’s right. Show me how you like them to be touched. Now, where do you feel good, baby. In your stomach?” His hand stroked over Sam’s taut belly, which was clenching with excitement, full of butterflies.

“Maybe,” Sam said.

“In your lips, maybe? Huh?”

Sam’s lips were tingling, come to think of it. He nodded slowly.

“I know this pretty dick is feeling it,” said Dean, skimming his finger down the line of Sam’s leaking, twitching cock. Sam gasped and thrust up wildly, but Dean took his hand away. Sam groaned. He knew his omega genitals were small compared to an Alpha – maybe they were kind of small compared to the rest of him. But they were huge for an omega, more in line with a beta’s equipment.

Of course he was a lot smaller than Dean, who was on the upper end even for an Alpha, just like their father had been. So many times Sam had been guilty of watching Dean reach unselfconsciously into his pants to adjust himself, or even dry himself off as he stepped out of the shower. Comfortable in his body in a way that Sam could only dream of.

“And these little balls, I can see you’re feeling it there. That’s good. But what about your backside, huh? Are you feeling it there too?”

Sam whined. He didn’t like to think about – back there. That wasn’t anywhere he wanted to feel.

“Keep your legs open,” Dean reminded him, nudging a knee between Sam's thighs to urge them further apart. “That's it, nice and wide. I’m just looking at your little hole, that’s all. It’s such a sweet little thing. Looks tight though, and dry. It doesn’t look like you’ve been using it properly. Have you been neglecting yourself, Sammy?”

It was true that Sam had stopped masturbating _that way_. When he wanted relief, he worked his cock, like a beta.

“Tell me the truth, little brother.”

“Yes, I’ve – I’ve neglected it.” It was hard to think straight, knowing that Dean had just called his hole _sweet_.

“I think you can do better than that in future. Can’t you?”

“Y-yes.”

“You need something up here, huh? So you’re not so empty.”

“No,” said Sam, “no, I don’t- I’m not – I’m like that.” It was true, even Jess had tried to be respectful, only pushing up one little finger while she’d distracted him with something else, playing with his dick or making him eat her out. She knew how uncomfortable he was, being … being penetrated.

“Shh,” said Dean. “You don’t have to tell me what you need. Relax your ass for me. Just take it easy.”

Something brushed against Sam’s entrance. “Ah! Dean – ”

He flinched away, whining, but Dean rubbed his thigh. “Relax. Deep breath, that’s it, that’s my good boy.” It was Dean’s finger, rubbing around his hole. Sam squirmed, feeling pathetic – but Dean shushed him, and he held still. “Good, good omega,” said Dean. “I'm just going to check how you're doing here. Stay nice and still.”

Sam gritted his teeth as Dean's fingers slipped down his crack, easily finding his asshole and dipping one inside. Sam let out a strangled sob as the finger pressed into his tight passage.

“Dean, please,” he whispered – “Please, don't make me. I - I can't.”

Dean stroked his back, long warm passes. Sam pressed back into the touch in spite of himself. “Of course you can, baby,” he said, still in that infuriatingly calm tone. “Your body already knows what to do. You just have to relax and let it happen, that's all. I'm not hurting you, I'm just trying to see if we can loosen you up back here. You're going to feel a lot better if we can. Does that sound okay, baby? Huh?”

“Oh!” gasped Sam. Dean's fingertip was rubbing lovingly over that sensitive spot inside him. “Oh Dean, I don't - _ah_!”

Sam could hear his own pathetic whimpers breaking through despite his best efforts. His eyes filled up with tears. He tried uselessly to blink them away. He had withstood the devil, and the angels, an FBI black site and the freaking men of letters, but he couldn't defeat his own biology.

"Shh, baby boy," said Dean. "Ain't gotta be scared of me, Sammy. It's only me, your big brother. I only want you to feel better."

“T-take it out,” said Sam, his voice cracking. “I hate it.” He was suddenly transported back to his childhood, Dean's hand on his head, keeping the thermometer in his ear despite five year old Sammy's peevish flailing.

“Try to imagine someone else, Sammy,” said Dean, his voice calm and low. “Picture whatever kind of Alpha you want, okay? A hot lady Alpha, maybe. Real smart, like a doctor or an - I don't know, architect or something. Picture her here with you.”

But Sam didn’t want that, didn’t want anyone other than _Dean_ when he was like this. Dean had always been stone number one.

He could feel his asshole clamping down around Dean’s finger, clenching and relaxing at the unfamiliar pressure, swallowing it down hungrily. Sam was so ashamed that he bleated, an omega sound, high pitched and pathetic. The kind of noise he’d sworn he would never make, when he was a thirteen year old boy humiliated by his new orientation. Dean shushed him easily, rubbing his back, instinctively primed to provide the comfort that Sam required. But he didn’t take his finger out. Instead he began moving it gently in little circles.

 _“Mmmmn_.” Sam was sucking and chewing on his own lips, trying to keep in the needy sounds he wanted to make as his brother firmly examined his insides, feeling around carefully like Sam was an engine that was rattling.

“Does that feel good?”

“M-maybe,” whispered Sam. “I don't - I don't know.”

Most omegas were plugged during the day, but Sam would never let someone do that to him. Now he thought about Dean pressing something up inside him, walking around knowing it was in there all the time, and shivered. It would be like – always having his brother’s touch, every minute. He was man enough to admit that there was something appealing about that.

“Well, your little hole knows,” said Dean, gently extracting the fingers while Sam gasped and clenched around the newly empty space. “See?”

He held up his hand. The fingers were glistening with something sticky and clear.

Sam flushed all over. He was making _slick_.

“It's working,” said Dean, reaching for a tissue. He sounded almost proud of Sam. That didn't make any sense. Sam was disgusting and broken, and now he couldn't even keep his own body under control.

But Sam still liked to hear the praise and approval in Dean's voice. He felt - kind of dazed, and kind of sleepy. He realized he was shivering, trying to scoot inconspicuously back into Dean, who felt like a furnace behind him. An Alpha ran hot compared to omegas anyway, and pre-heat only magnified the effects.

Callused hands landed on his hips and tugged him back into the cradle of Dean's legs. “You're breaking out in goosebumps, baby. Can you take a deep breath for me?”

Sam heard himself whine again, high pitched and frantic, and Dean must have known instinctively what to do, because he turned him around - hand curled possessively over the crown of Sam's skull – and coaxed his face into the sweet curve of Dean's neck, where it was dark and safe.

“That’s it. It’s okay, Sammy. It’s okay.” Dean started rubbing his scalp, strong fingers working through his hair. Sam didn't bother trying to keep back his happy moans, pushing up into the touch. He could feel Dean's smile against his temple, right before a quick kiss was pressed there. Sam squirmed with mingled pleasure and embarrassment, his inner omega enjoying the affection. Most omegas loved to be touched, but Sam had mostly denied himself since Jess had died. Dean had respected his wishes and kept his distance, but just now Sam was feeling like an idiot for depriving them both this comfort.

He knew Dean was loving it too. Alphas were more settled when they had an omega to dote on. Sam knew a lot of Dean's jangly restlessness came from the sad state of their relationship. He would have matured emotionally and gained confidence if he had mated with someone else ... but Dean had always refused to leave Sam.

Dean sniffed him deeply, holding Sam's head to one side. “Can you feel that, baby?” he asked, sounding awed.

“I'm in heat,” said Sam, wincing at a painful cramp that sparked in his abdomen.

The familiar feeling of his mating cycle - the knowledge that he wasn't broken, that his body could still function the way it was supposed to, after everything that had happened - was overwhelming. Sam buried his face in Dean's shoulder and began to sob. Deep, full-body sobs of mingled relief and grief that he would blame on hormones gone haywire.

Dean didn't even try to shush him this time, just held on tight, rubbing his back, his other hand stroking Sam's hair in silence. As Sam wound down he was aware that Dean was swaying them slowly from side to side. Sam was positive he remembered the gesture from his childhood. The tears felt healing, like the draining of a wound.

“Sorry,” he muttered.

“S'okay,” Dean whispered. “It's been a while, I get it.”

“M'tired,” Sam slurred, slumping forward. He made a face at the churning in his guts as the organs reawakened. Dean's warm hand slid down to rub over his belly in slow, soothing circles and it felt so good that Sam whimpered softly. He should be stronger than this, he knew, but his omega side wanted to be taken care of just now, and he wasn't strong enough to fight against it. Especially with Dean's contented alpha scent, warm and woodsy, under his nose. He could _smell_ how happy Dean was. Hadn't Dean always wanted to look after Sammy, in every possible way?

 _Take care of your omega brother,_ that's what Dean had heard every day of his life growing up.

Now Dean was smoothing warm hands over Sam's back, occasionally nuzzling his nose over Sam's temple, taking in deep breaths of his heat scent. Jess had said it smelled sweet, like oranges and almonds, although he couldn't really detect it himself. All he could smell at the moment was Dean's adoring attention. He nuzzled into Dean's shoulder.

“You’re so beautiful, baby boy,” said Dean. “You feeling good now?”

“Mm hmm,” said Sam.

“Gonna take care of you, if you'll let me.” Dean sounded like he was half demanding and half begging. “Make sure you stay nice and warm, and keep hydrated, and don't get hungry. You gonna let me do that for you?”

“Want you to,” said Sam, blinking back more tears. “Want you to stay with me. Mm sorry, Dee, I'm sorry for making you feel like I don't want you around. I've always needed you, big brother.”

“Hey hey hey, shh, you don't need to get upset,” said Dean, snugging Sam impossibly tighter. He couldn’t stop nuzzling into Dean’s jaw, his fingers clutched tight in the fabric of his brother’s shirt, afraid that he would try to pull away. “It's alright, baby, I know - I know how hard it's been on you.”

Sam could feel it now, the nagging itch starting in his backside, coming from his sore, swollen hole. He closed his eyes at the familiar lightheaded, swirly feeling. It had been a long time since he'd experienced it. He knew he'd lose his inhibitions, become clingy and dependent, want Dean's reassurance - his words, yes, and his touch, his scent, his dick and his knot.

He whined again, uncertain, but Dean was already moving to comfort him, sliding his bare wrist under Sam's nose and letting him sniff it. Sam couldn't resist giving it a lick, just wanting a little more, the taste of the pheromones popping on his tongue. He kissed the skin, then latched on and sucked, while Dean stroked his hair. “That's it, Sammy, that's what you need, ain't it.”

Dean tugged him back down into his neck, where Sam sniffed eagerly, then licked and then kissed the skin. Finally he opened his mouth and sucked on that warm skin, biting gently. He wanted more of Dean in his mouth; his fingers, his tongue, his cock.

“Dean ... you know there's nobody else in the world I could even imagine spending my heat with, right? You're the only one that – ” he swallowed – “that I would want to take care of me.”

Dean's dark eyelashes fluttered against his cheek. He reached out to cradle Sam's face in his hand, thumb rubbing over Sam's cheekbone. “Aw, baby. I know you're a big ball of hormones and everything's confusing, sweetheart. How about we get you tucked into bed with a heat pack and a vibrator, and we'll talk about this in a few days?”

Sam's heartbeat stuttered. “You don't want me?” His voice cracked.

“Hey, hey, hey, of course I do, baby, I never wanted anybody else! But you can't make a decision like this right now. You're going to wake up in a week and realize you don't want a second rate Alpha like your big brother. You deserve someone really great, someone who can give you a nice life.”

“Don't ever want anyone but you,” said Sam, straining to concentrate. “We don't have to mate right now, we can wait if it will make you feel better, but - you're the one who induced my heat because my body knows you're the one I want to be with. And I'd really like it if - if you didn't leave me right now while I'm – ” he waved a hand self-deprecatingly – “while I'm like this. You don't have to fuck me, but can you - can you hold me, at least? Or stay nearby? I don't - I don't want to be alone.”

Sam knew he was about two seconds from crying again. He'd forgotten how emotional he became under the influence of his cycle. But it felt good, too, like he could finally be honest with Dean about the way that he felt. He loved Dean, and he wanted them to be mates for the rest of their lives, however long that was. It seemed completely obvious now, like he'd denied it for as long as he could and suddenly he couldn't pretend anymore. Dean was his mate. Dean had always been his mate and would always be the only one he'd ever want.

Dean was - Dean was rocking him again, shushing him, his hand combing through Sam's sweaty hair. Sam was aware that he must be such a mess, shaking and wild-eyed, clinging to Dean like a koala.

But Dean was steady and sure, his eyes on Sam's face, still stroking soothingly over his cheek. Dean looked like he was trying not to smile, or maybe he was close to breaking into tears himself. He leaned forward to press a dry, gentle kiss to Sam's lips. It was over way too quickly and he didn't let Sam deepen it. “Of course,” he whispered. “Now - how about that backrub.”

“I want the heat pack too,” said Sam. “And ... maybe that other thing.” But mostly he wanted Dean's arms around him, their scent filling up the bed, their bodies curled up close together. And when the heat was over, he'd convince Dean that this wasn't a one-time thing.

This time next year they'd be spending Sam's heat together, as mates. And every year after that.

Dean kissed his head and nodded, his arm still an anchor around his waist. “Whatever you want, Sammy,” he said. “We've got all the time in the world.”

 


End file.
